


What Have I Done?

by whatdoyouwantpaul



Category: Spies Are Forever
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Typical Violence, Curt is dead, Gore, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Manipulation, Nightmares, Owen is sad, Period Typical Homophobia, Plot Twist, Sadness, Spies, Stupid Character, Torture, but he’s not actually, chimera, curt is sad, everyone is sad but Cynthia, expectation subversion, spy character, twisted fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoyouwantpaul/pseuds/whatdoyouwantpaul
Summary: Curt is dead. It’s Owen’s fault. How can he forgive himself?
Relationships: Curt Mega/Owen Carvour
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	1. A Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen believes that Curt made a mistake in saving him

The great Curt Mega was dead, and it was all Owen’s fault. God, if he hadn’t been so reckless— selfless... then Owen would be sitting in his government-provided limousine with a very sleepy Curt leaning on his shoulder. He’d be kissing Curt’s hand or trying not to fall asleep himself, rather than crawling through rubble and trying not to look at his lover’s corpse.

Eventually his overworked arms gave out and he fell, lying on his stomach in the debris, his palms and knees bleeding. He squeezed his eyes shut as the scene replayed in his head.

“Oh Curt Mega, you’re going to be the death of me!”

“No! I’d never let you down!”

As soon as Curt had said that, Owen fell to the ground. He heard his back pop and bones break. It seemed like an eternity before Curt unfroze himself and grit his teeth, jumping after Owen.

Owen wanted to scream at him. Tell him he had to leave. But he couldn’t make his voice leave his head, and even if he could, Curt picked him up before he would have been able to. 

Curt, despite his obviously shattered ankles, carried Owen up the stairs as far as he could. It wasn’t enough time.

Sobbing, Owen recalled the awful noise when the other bombs went off and blew them both forward. When Owen looked to Curt, he saw not his lover, but a bloodied, lifeless, mangled body.

“No...” Owen whispered to himself. He tried his best to stop thinking and crawl forward. He had to get out. He had to get back to the agency.

Managing to get out of the building, Owen let out a sigh of relief. He sat back on his knees and looked out at the sun setting, just as his view was blocked by a black car.


	2. A Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen is presented with a choice

“So what do you call yourselves again?” Owen was sitting in a car with tinted windows and cold leather seats, wrapped in a towel. He was across from a man in dark sunglasses and a suit. The man was flanked on both sides by two armed women in matching black blazers.

“Chimera,” the woman on the left answered. “We’re an organization dedicated to the erasure of secrets from the world.”

Owen nodded and pulled the towel tighter around him. “Why did you pick me up?”

“Because otherwise, you would have died.” 

“But—“

“Why do we care?” The man cut him off. “Because, not only could you be of use to our cause, Owen, but after that little... incident, I’m sure you detest this business as much as we do.”

“I don’t hate the business.”

They all chuckled a little and the man spoke up again. “Who are you kidding, agent? Without this business your partner never would have died. And, without this business, you never would have had to hide that he was much more than just a coworker.”

“What?” Owen paled. “Of- of course he is— was. He was my best friend.”

“Owen.” The man smiled. “You must know that we, Chimera, I mean, have been keeping tabs on you. We know how much time you spent at his home, we know about the mysterious, two month disappearance to Costa Rica.”

Owen stayed silent, staring down at his dusty shoes.

“Without this business, your lover would be alive.”

Throat tightening, Owen let out a small sob. “Curt...”

“So you see why you’re so favorable to our organization. You have every motivation to help the cause, don’t you.”

“I suppose...”

“So we’re going to present you with a choice.” The man leaned forward, clasping his hands together. 

Owen nodded. 

“You can come with us and help change the world for the better, or refuse and be returned to the job that killed your lover.”

Gulping, Owen looked up for the first time during the car ride before promptly looking back down again. “I- I’m not sure.”

“The choice is yours to make.”

“Is it really?” Owen chuckled and wrung his hands.

“We need an answer, Owen. Will you come with us? Will you change history?”

Owen thought a moment. A long, long moment. Eventually, he looked up. “Yes.”


	3. A Session and a Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen meets with a counselor.

After his yes, Owen was taken to what he could only assume was Chimera headquarters. It was a grand silver building with no windows and very few doors. Really, if not for the color, it would be easy to mistake the place for an abandoned warehouse.

The car stopped in front of a wall, which then promptly opened to let the car in. It was nothing Owen hadn’t seen before, but still impressive for how well they camouflaged the door.

A man opened the car door on Owen’s side and, rather forcefully, grabbed his arm to pull him out of the car. However, his grip loosened with a scathing glare from the man inside the car.

“So, what do I need to do?” Owen asked.

“Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” The man from the car answered. “Right now, you don’t need to do anything but go where we take you.”

Owen nodded, swallowing and wringing his hands.

The two men led him down a pristine, almost medical hallway and into a room with a singular table and two chairs, lit up by a spotlight overhead.

“Am I going to be interrogated?” Owen asked, chuckling a little out of nervousness.

“Oh, no, but you will be talking to our resident... counselor to get a basic assessment of your personality, abilities, and endurance.”

“Very convenient that your headquarters was only a day away from the building...”

“This isn’t headquarters,” the man didn’t even look at Owen. “This is simply our Russian branch. None of us have ever seen headquarters, and it’s not likely that you nor any of us ever will.”

“You are... bigger that I thought... I- how do we not know about you?”

“If you mean how have we hidden from the most major intelligence agencies from around the world while building our technological empire? It is simple, we have no agents. We do not terrorize. We do not kill people. We do not torture people. There is no need for that.”

“You never caused any trouble, so the agencies had no reason to track you.”

The man nodded. “That is enough exposition for today. The counselor should be with you in a moment.”

A moment was apparently three hours. Owen was left alone in a blank room with grey metal walls and a bright light overhead for three hours. Eventually, the counselor did enter the room and sit across from Owen. She was a smaller woman, with high cheekbones and blonde hair pulled in a tight bun. She sorted her files and looked up at Owen over her glasses.

“So, you are Owen?” Her voice was low and her Russian accent was thick. 

Owen nodded. “And you’re the counselor?”

“Indeed. I am to understand that you have recently suffered a loss.”

“Um... yes. Just yesterday actually, I would call that recent.”

“May I ask who you lost?”

“My partner, Curt.”

“Partner?”

“Um... romantic partner.” Owen shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “He was caught in an explosion...”

She scrunched her face up and put down her files. “I am sorry for your loss. Of course, we will allow and account for a grieving period.”

“So, I am to understand, you don’t care that I’m romantically involved in men at all?”

The counselor sighed. “It is... abnormal, and we cannot allow this practice to continue. However, we do not judge what a man has done in his past. Even if another man was involved.”

“Ah,” Owen smiled and raised his eyebrows, then promptly dropped that expression. “So I’m allowed to mourn Curt, but not move on to someone else.”

“It is too dangerous. It is easy blackmail and... it is ungodly.”

Owen nodded. “I understand.”

“Now, your—ahem— lover... describe him.”

Looking taken aback, Owen struggled to find the words. “Well- well I... he... he was perfect. Brave, selfless, he- he sacrificed himself for me. I love him. He wasn’t the most intelligent man... or the most responsible. He was rash, but it, it could be useful. He was handsome.. and- and well... handsome!”

“How did he look like?”

“Oh, that’s a difficult one,” Owen chuckled. “Well, um.... he’s short. Brown hair. Oh, god, I don’t know. Soft face. Pretty eyes that I can’t quite tell the color of...”

The counselor held her hand up. “That will be enough. And his name?”

“Um, very formal questions.”

She rolled her eyes.

He laughed nervously, which slowly faded into an awkward cough, and looked down. “Agent Curtis Lawrence Mega.” He answered quickly.

Her eyebrows raised for a moment. “Ah.” Pausing, she looked to be deep in thought. Then, she reached under the table and pulled out a rather large bottle of vodka. 

“Should you be drinking on the job?”

“It is for you,” she answered. “It is, how you Americans say, a housewarming gift.”

“First, not American. Second, I’m pretty sure that they don’t say that unless someone has just bought a house. Hence—“

“Shut up.” 

Happily obliging, Owen once again looked at the floor. At this point, he was pretty damn familiar with them.

In her first act of compassion, the counselor sighed and placed her hand over Owen’s. “Take the alcohol. I have worked with many people who have lost loved ones over the years, and I know that you will need it.”

Owen took it. “Thank you.”

“It is not a problem.”

Before he could respond, she shushed him again. “To your quarters.”

He nodded and was promptly ushered out.


	4. A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen often can’t sleep, but why?

Over the next few months, Owen had been put through rigorous examinations and trainings. Obstacle courses, mental examinations, written exams. Owen breezed through all of them. They weren’t much different than his training for MI6, just much more emphasis on AVOIDING killing. Usually, Owen could simply... ignore things that bothered or hurt him in favor of the things he liked about Chimera.

What he could ignore were the dreams. Horrible, awful things. He sometimes found himself unable to wake up, and if he did, unable to move. They were plagued with images of Curt’s mangled face or his mother’s dead body, but never explicitly. The traumas appeared in that surreal, dreamlike way. 

Though, others were different.

Owen was lying in bed, Curt at his side. He was overcome with that pleasant feeling you get when you wake up from a nightmare and realize that it wasn’t real. Everything was glowing. Everything was perfect.

He sighed dreamily and stretched. “Good morning, love.”

“Morning.” Curt smiled up at him. His voice was a bit hoarse (Owen couldn’t imagine why). “Did you sleep well?”

“Of course, you’re here.” Owen lazily ran his hand through Curt’s hair. “And you really wore me out last night.”

“Oh stop!”

“You’re a very demanding lover, dear.” He pushed himself into a sitting position, Curt still leaning on his chest. After a minute, Curt sat up as well, moving into Owen’s lap.

“Maybe I’ll demand some more of you today.”

“Oh would you?” Owen kissed him. It was as if he had forgotten how nice Curt’s lips were. Soft, warm, and just... nice. They tasted like mint and something...

Curt smiled against his lips and pushed him down onto his back. 

Owen groaned in response. “Gentle, dear...”

“Oh, you love it when I pin you down.”

“Well, you love it when I pull your hair.”

“You love it when I bite you.”

“You love it when I slap you.”

Curt sighed. “Touché.”

Chuckling, Owen pulled him closer and went back to kissing. After a minute, Curt looked up at him and bit his lip before sliding under the covers. Soon, Owen bit his lip and groaned, hand traveling down to Curt’s hair.

It went by faster than Owen would like to admit. Before he knew it, Curt was back on his chest, smiling. 

“Curt, that was excellent.” Owen leaned back.

“Yeah?”

Owen nodded. He wrapped an arm around Curt and pulled him close to his side. “You’re so kind to me.”

“Well, you were so tense in your sleep.” Curt ran his calloused fingertips down Owen’s chest. “I figured you needed it. You would’ve done the same for me.”

Instead of speaking, Owen just pulled Curt into a sleepy hug. 

“Owen!” Curt laughed. “We need to get up, it’s late.”

“But you’re so warm,” Owen whined. “And it’s cold out!”

Everything when silent for a moment and Owen’s ears rang faintly.

“Owen?” Curt’s voice was echoey and distant, barely audible behind the increasingly loud ringing in his ears. Suddenly, it stopped, everything was back to normal. “It’s June. And we’re in Costa Rica.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Owen thought a moment. “Weren’t we in Russia? I- I could’ve sworn...”

“Do we need to get your memory checked, old man?” He laughed and sat up, grabbing Owen’s hand. “C’mon. Get up, I’m not cooking breakfast by myself.”

Owen let himself be pulled out of bed to watch Curt fuss over which shirt he should wear that day: the too-tight blue one or the too-tight black one. Usually, they looked pretty much the same to Owen, but that morning he was overcome with... some sort of longing. He missed Curt, but Curt was right there in front of him. 

“I think you should wear the blue one.” Owen grabbed the newspaper from the nightstand.

“Since when do you care?”

“I just think you look so much nicer in blue. Not to say you don’t look good in black, I just... I like you in blue.”

He smirked and slipped it on. “I do look good in blue, don’t I?”

Owen nodded. “You look absolutely marvelous, love.”

Curt didn’t respond, he just winked and grabbed his hand. Biting his lip, he led Owen to the kitchen. On their way, they passed a window. It was snowing outside. Owen smiled softly at it.

Before he knew what was happening, it went dark. Outside the window was complete, empty blackness. He didn’t feel Curt’s hand on his anymore.

“Owen?” His voice was distant again. Owen’s ears began to ring again. “Owen!!”

As soon as it started, it stopped, and he was back. Curt smiling in front of him holding two vinyl records. “What’ll it be? Buddy Holly or Ella Fitzgerald?”

“I don’t want to listen to an American,” Owen teased. “I do that all day.”

Curt rolled his eyes. “Buddy Holly, then.” He turned to place the record into the record player, giving Owen quite the view (perhaps intentionally). 

Smiling, Owen bit his lip. “You look nice.”

“You already said that, bastard.” Curt stood back up and hummed to the music, not showing his full face.

“Why don’t you ever call me nice things like ‘dear’ or—“ Finally, Curt turned. His face was bloody, gravel and glass buried in his right cheek, just below the eye. “Or- or...”

He sighed, his voice grainy and distant. “I love this song...”

Owen found himself unable to do more than stammer. Eventually, he stuttered out a weak “C-Curt?”

Moving toward him, Curt, or rather Curt’s body, clicked and cracked. It was as if he was broken on the inside, and the pieces were frantically trying to put themselves back together.

“You look so beautiful today, Owen,” Curt hugged him around the waist, a few bones that stuck out of his skin digging into Owen’s hips. “You looked beautiful when I saved you...”

Owen couldn’t breathe.

“I love you,” Curt’s voice grew raspy and weak.

Owen was awake. There was no fading or harp music or anything to indicate that any of it was a dream. He was simply... awake. Sweaty, yes, though he always slept in minimal clothing. Hyperventilating, yes. But awake. And alive. Back in Chimera-issued dorm room. It was dark. He reached out to the left side of him, the side Curt always slept when they could find the time and place to sleep in the same bed. 

There was nothing. Just a flat comforter over a mattress. With no lover to drape himself over, Owen slept fairly still, often waking up in the same spot he’d laid himself down in. 

While his breathing went down, became more relaxed, he thought back to the dream with his hand still over the empty place in his bed.

And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out which was worse.


	5. A Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen gets what he always wanted. What will it cost him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! AP exams were kicking my ass.

The dreams didn’t stop. Soon, it had just gotten to the point where he decided he just wouldn’t sleep. Of course, this didn’t help, he didn’t know why he thought it would. 

When he couldn’t invade his dreams, Curt invaded his waking hours. His soft features turning jagged in Owen’s mind as he found himself remembering more and more of his corpse. 

Eventually, it was too much for him. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t be alone. He started digging his fingernails into his biceps, drawing blood, whenever he remembered the body of his lover. Panic attacks came without warning, and Owen had passed out during training more than once, his skin pale and his cheeks sunken.

“Owen?” His new roommate, Bohdan, asked. When he started developing night terrors and waking up with bloody arms, Chimera decided to assign him a roommate. Force him into social interaction. 

“Yes?” Owen’s voice was hoarse.

“The counselor wants to see you. Agent Holt requested you meet with her every week from now on to assess your training.”

Owen perked up. Despite her cold demeanor and classified name, the counselor was likely the most welcoming person in all of Chimera headquarters. “When?”

“Now.”

He stood. “Now?”

“Agent Holt says it’s important. You’d better go.”

Owen moved to the door. “I’ll see you at training?”

“Of course.” He smiled. “Don’t be late this time. Sleep at NIGHT.”

A blush spread across Owen’s cheeks as he left the room.

The counselor was sat at her pristine white desk, her legs crossed and her dark hair done up. She nodded to the black chair across from her when Owen entered the room. He gulped and wrung his hands together. Something about that room made his skin crawl, and her face was colder than usual.

“You... ah— Agent Holt said you wanted to see me.” He sat down.

“Yes. Indeed.”

He bit his lip. “Well I—“

“How have you been progressing over these past few months?” She interrupted. “You do not look as well as I would have hoped.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yes...”

“Well, to be honest, I haven’t been doing well. I can’t sleep. All I can think about is him, how I should have reacted. His dead body is in all my dreams now. He gets into my head even when I’m not asleep or- or I’m trying consciously to keep him out! I can barely eat. Like I said, I can’t sleep. And well... I can’t... well...”

“Hm?” She raised an eyebrow.

He hushed his voice. “Masturbate.”

“Ah!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just... you don’t allow me to sleep with the people I want to sleep with and my mind won’t allow me to- to— so I just—“

“No more details! Please!” She slammed her pen down on the desk. 

Owen went quiet. They both were for a moment.

“I called you in for a reason, you know. The reason is not that I am concerned for your wellbeing. Though, as much as I hate to admit it, I am. You are promising young man. Do not throw everything away in mourning. You will have nothing left for moving on.”

Nodding, Owen spoke up. “So, you called me in here for a reason. What is it?”

“I think it is time we showed you something.” She stood. “Follow me.”

Owen only stood to follow as she left through the well-concealed door behind her desk. As he was led down a white, fluorescent hallway, he felt himself breaking into a sweat. His stomach churned with anticipation.

Finally, she opened the door at the end of the hallway, revealing a darkened room. This room was much more personal than the last few, with red carpeting and soft green lighting. In the middle of the room, there was a cluttered mahogany desk with a man sitting behind it.

He was tall, even while sitting. With sharp features and dark eyes, he made Owen feel... small. They spent what seemed like hours waiting for the other to speak, but just as Owen did, the man spoke up.

“Agent Carvour. I am to understand that you have recently suffered a loss. The loss of a partner.”

Owen nodded. “Around six months ago.”

“I know.” His voice was blunt and steely. “Do you understand why you’re here, Agent?”

“Well—“

“You’re here because Chimera needed you for our mission. We knew that you held the same values. That you’d be an asset, not the liability that you are slowly becoming.” He didn’t wait for Owen to speak before he started again. “You’re here now because of the fact that you’ve been regressing into a much worse agent than the one we observed in MI6.”

“I’m sorry for my performance, sir, I—“

“I don’t want your excuses. I want you to see something.” He pulled a screen from a drawer in his desk. As he turned it on, Owen grew more and more nervous. All these people saying ‘I want to show you something’ and yet he never gets to see the SOMETHING that they want to SHOW.

“What is it?”

The man handed him the screen and tapped on a figure towards the middle. A man, white, fairly short, in a hospital room, wearing a blue shirt with a prominent back brace underneath. Probably wanted to hide it, due to vanity or pride, both are likely in a man his age. The more he looked, the more Owen’s nervousness disappeared. 

His face paled when he realized who it was.

“Curt?” His voice shook. “He’s alive?”


	6. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt is alive. Chimera will do anything to keep Owen cold and angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you reading this story (those who feel inclined to comment), how would you feel about a sequel from Curt’s perspective?

Owen couldn’t tear his eyes away. “He- he...”

The counselor seemed to be unable to look at Owen. Her eyes were darker than usual and her cheeks were more sunken. “Yes. He’s alive. And we have reason to believe that he knows you are as well.”

Shaking his head, Owen finally looked away. “No, no, there’s no way. He would have looked for me. He would have found me! If he were alive we’d- we’d be together..” his voice fell quieter with each word.

“Agent Carvour, we’re incredibly sorry, but we have evidence to believe the contrary.”

“Your... ah.. boyfriend, has moved on. He is beginning his newest mission in a week and has taken another lover.”

Owen scowled. “Why wouldn’t he have—“

Everyone fell silent for a moment as Owen’s stare on the screen hardened. Curt, on the screen, had his arms around a tall, dark-skinned man in a lab coat. His doctor. Frozen, Owen realized that the man was his doctor. Curt had fallen in love with a man that he met maybe a day after the incident.

A growl rose in his throat. 

“Owen...?” The counselor’s voice was soft. 

“I’m sorry. Sir, ma’am, I think I’ll be going back to my room now.”

The man gave a swift nod. “You’re excused, Agent.”

Clenching his jaw, Owen stormed down the pristine white hallway and out of the counselors office. The walk back to his bunk felt like no time at all, but the heat in his blood grew by ten. Once he got back, he finally let out the scream that had been bubbling in his lungs ever since he saw Curt’s stupid, pretty, very much ALIVE face.

“Woah!” His bunk mate hopped off the bed. “What’s snapping your cap?”

Owen punched the wall and hissed, as it was metal. 

“Hey, hey, you okay, agent?”

“No, I’m very much NOT.”

“Alright, what happened?”

“I got over something.”


	7. A Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt is alive. Owen’s real pissed about it.

After his discovery, training was the only thing that kept him afloat. Though, he had to say, sleeping was so much easier. Curt was the last thing he wanted on his mind, yet it seemed like he was always the first thing on his mind.

It was alright, though, he had a plan. Any time he thought about Curt, he’d go to the training room for an hour. He was in there a lot. His knuckles were bruised and raw, his voice was rough from screaming, it was all a blur of anger.

That is, until he was called into the room again. 

The counselor, her face was so much sadder these days, led him down that sterile hallway again. He stepped into that room again, his jaw clenched.

A subtle smirk was painted on the man’s face. “Good evening, Agent. I’m sure you’re wondering why I ordered you here.”

“Yes, sir.” Owen’s voice was blank, with a tinge of fury behind it.

“I’m ordering you here because you’re the best agent we have. You’ve killed more people than our top assassins combined, and a lot of the time that isn’t even your job. You’re strong, Carvour. You’re deadly.”

“I know that.” His face was cold. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’ve got a special mission for you, Agent Carvour.”

“Does it have anything to do with—“

“Curt Mega?” He cut Owen off. “It does.”

“Then I don’t want it.”

Shaking his head, the man sighed. “You may want to rethink that decision.”

“I already said that I don’t want the mission, what more is there to—“

“Agent.”

“What?!”

“It’s very likely,” he paused. “That you will need to kill Curt Mega for this mission.”

Owen couldn’t help but take a gasp. 

“There’s a man in Spain, he sells bombs. Your first order is to meet him and tell him that Chimera sent you. Instructions will follow.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Owen,” the man had never used his first name before. “This could be your chance to erase that... muddled past of yours. You could get revenge on Curt, clear away anything you don’t want known about you.”

“I’ll do it,” he said without a pause.

A smile crept over the man’s face. “Welcome to the team, Carvour.”

“That’s not my name anymore.”

“Oh?” The man raised an eyebrow.

“From now on... I want to be known as the Deadliest Man Alive.”


End file.
